


In Every Way

by Valmasy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, It's the same universe but slightly different, Just to be safe, M/M, Masturbation, abuse of multiple languages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmasy/pseuds/Valmasy
Summary: No one would ever believe him.Jim thinks that’s one of the key factors in how the whole sordid affair comes to fruition. He’d have an easier time convincing people that sex pollen was involved. Maybe if he enlists that Botany major, he can get away with it. He tries to remember the guy’s name.





	In Every Way

**Author's Note:**

> For Sinful Saturday, and for Katie. I owed her something nice. (Eventually)

No one would ever believe him.

Jim thinks that’s one of the key factors in how the whole sordid affair comes to fruition. He’d have an easier time convincing people that sex pollen was involved. Maybe if he enlists that Botany major, he can get away with it. He tries to remember the guy’s name. Something-something Sul-

“Ah, fuck!” Jim exclaims, one hand slamming to the wall behind the shelves and knocking a few containers around in the process. His chest digs into the shelf, barely blocked by his rucked up shirt, and his train of thought is lost to the sharp sting of his ass cheek.

“That is precisely what I am doing, Kirk,” and Jim shivers at the command in Spock’s tone. “If you’d be so kind as to actually pay more attention here than in your classes…”

Spock doesn’t even sound out of breath, the bastard. Jim pants out a ‘yeah-yeah, sorry’ and reaches a hand back to get a slick grip on Spock’s hip. Spock’s pace doesn’t falter, and Jim’s cock is very grateful for it. 

Jim would reach for himself, stroke his cock to the deep, steady thrusts into his body, but he knows better. He knows that Spock will immediately knock his hand away, careful not to slide their fingers together, because they don’t kiss. In any way. 

Jim had learned that lesson the second time Spock had spirited him away to a secluded area with nothing more than a “Come with me” and an arched brow. No kissing. Spock had evaded the attempt, expression going pinched and constipated, and flatly told Jim that it wasn’t something he wanted from this. 

Jim believes him; Vulcans don’t lie. Jim isn’t good enough for that level of intimacy. No, that’s not right. It’s simply because he’s human, and Spock is only looking for release, relief in a warm and willing body. One that he can trust, or as much as Jim suspects he’s trusted not to run his mouth. 

Which brings him back around to his initial observation this early in the morning: no one would ever believe him.

“Why me?” Jim asks, voice husky with arousal and exertion. The question doesn’t surprise Spock; it shouldn’t. It’s not the first time Jim’s asked. And, just as Jim expects, Spock slides a hand into Jim’s hair. Long, artist’s fingers curl and tangle in Jim’s damp strands and pull his head back so that Spock can press his mouth to the beat of Jim’s pulse. His lips rest against Jim’s throat, slightly parted, and his tongue brushes against Jim’s skin in tantalizing, teasing strokes as he speaks. 

“ _Vosuaco iea ulo ni cam, umja YU searja meh remtol cyunkri elvyug iea._ ” Spock’s hand, previously guiding Jim’s hips in counter, now slides around Jim’s waist, those fingers tightening along his side. It’s another language Jim doesn’t know, but he desperately tries to remember some of the curling vowel sounds so he can try to decipher it later.

Along with the other ones Spock has said when Jim’s asked before. It’s only two pages of half-remembered sounds, botched phrases and shitty, possible translations. And Jim is no closer to figuring it out. A small part of him wants to imagine that Spock is saying something stupidly romantic.

That part is ruthlessly crushed when, after a month’s worth of these clandestine trysts -Jim reads too many trashy novels, sue him-, he spies Spock and T’Pring in the cafeteria together. It’s not an unusual occurrence; she’s Vulcan, after all, and they tend to circulate together. What puts the vice around that small hope for romance is the casual way their hands are held together, the fingers linked in easy familiarity. 

But he keeps asking, the words always pushing out of him with the thick slide of Spock’s cock, the pressure of his orgasm building inside of him. He can never bring himself to ask for more. He listens to the languages with resignation, shudders as Spock spills inside him and rides the waves of pleasure through his own release. 

Jim moans brokenly, hips twitching in over-sensitivity as Spock wraps his free hand around Jim’s dick and fucking _wrenches_ the last of Jim’s cum out in thick drops that join the rest on the floor at his feet. Jim can only blink sluggishly as the sight, the flush of green in Spock’s hand as the head of Jim’s cock disappears and reappears through every squeeze of Spock’s fingers. 

He’s not good enough to kiss, but Spock has no qualms about dirtying those pretty fingers with the rest of Jim’s body. They spread him wide, fuck him open, drag gut-wrenching cries from him, then wring him dry until he can barely stand, knees weak and spine turned to jelly. 

Jim fantasizes about getting those fingers in his mouth. He wants to worship those hands with teeth and tongue and gentle kisses until it’s Spock who’s a trembling mess, until it’s Spock’s turn to chant ‘please’ until Jim gives in and sinks onto Spock’s cock to give him what he wants. 

He tucks those daydreams away and tells himself that he still believes he can have this with Spock without the need for something more, to _make_ it mean more. He doesn’t need this public. He doesn’t need the calm, simple affections of a Vulcan boyfriend. 

But even Jim has his moments where he’s desperately human, and the shame of what he allows Spock to do to him, to T’Pring if that ‘bond mate’ rumor is true, gets to him. It instills in him a twisted, angry urge to do...something, anything to make the hurt go away, or to share it, make Spock feel the same ugly, human emotions. 

It never fails to amaze Jim, afterwards, that Spock never avoids him in these moods. He still leads Jim to an abandoned space, and he lets Jim take him to the floor. He lets Jim get his cock out, get it hard with quick, efficient strokes, and then watches as Jim turns in his lap, faces away and works his pants down just enough to get Spock inside him.   
The first time, Spock makes a noise of protest at the unprepared state of Jim’s body, but Jim growls “Shut the fuck up,” grits his teeth through the burning, painful stretch, and rides that pain until Spock’s release slicks the next downward roll of Jim’s hips. 

Each time, he pulls immediately away, fixes his pants and ditches Spock without another word, without a look back. He never gets himself off; he leaves with a hollow, sick ache in his gut to match the one in his heart.

Spock is always careful not to touch him during these times as if he can sense how even a simple one would shatter them to pieces. Jim never asks ‘why me’, and Spock never answers. These times are quick and rough, a punishment Jim inflicts on himself.

But it helps. It expends the anger and lets Jim think about the situation more objectively. 

He can do this booty-call dance with Spock. He can let himself care for Spock through the day-to-day insights he gains from being in a lot of the same classes together for the Command and Science tracks. He can allow himself to be whatever Spock thinks he wants. 

He has the love and support he needs from his close-knit group of friends. He doesn’t need Spock’s.

Like Bones, his grumpy sponsor who’s on track to become the best doctor in the whole galaxy who promises that he’ll follow Jim into deep space if only to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. Jim used to say he didn’t have a brother, but he does now. 

Like Scotty, his brash and sometimes hard to understand Engineering professor who promises that he’ll be Jim’s Chief Engineer as long as Jim doesn’t mind off-the-book specs. Jim’s seen the things Scotty can do, and he can’t say he minds at all.

Like Uhura, the only woman who’s tongue impresses Jim not because of kissing -they don’t do that either-, but because of her talent with so many...different...languages...

Jim is an idiot. He’s been so caught up in the secretive aspect of his meetings with Spock, that he’s forgotten he could at least have Uhura look over the notes he’s tried to take on the things Spock says. 

“You are especially distracted today,” Spock says, his forehead pressed to the nape of Jim’s neck. His hand is no longer around Jim’s cock, but resting against his hip, sticky-wet fingers rubbing Jim’s cum into his skin. 

Jim’s breathing is almost normal now. His clothes are still pushed and pulled out of the way, but Spock doesn’t seem to be any hurry to withdraw his softening cock so Jim can get dressed. He turns his face into his arm resting on the shelf, wipes at the sweat rolling down his brow.   
“Why me?” Jim asks again and, this time, he swears he can feel Spock tense just a little.

“ _SeH SoH jejlaw' 'ej pagh popmey Hutlh SoH._ ” The hard consonants hit Jim’s back, knocking the breath out of him. He thinks he recognizes some of it, knows the language is Klingon, and doesn’t like the way Spock’s voice sounds with the harsh words. Spock finally moves, carefully stepping away from Jim to start tidying himself up. 

“Spock,” Jim says, not moving. 

“You have approximately three-point-six minutes to make yourself presentable bef-”

“Spock, I can’t do this anymore,” Jim interrupts as he turns to look at Spock. The words hang there between them, heavy and charged. Jim’s shirt slides down to his stomach and catches on the stickiness of his skin. 

Spock’s hands are still, resting on the belt he’d pulled around his uniform. It’s still unbuckled. For some reason, Jim focuses on that instead of Spock’s penetrating gaze. “Unless you give me a straight answer, right now, this is done.”

“ _Perché tu sei la mia altra metà e, senza di te, la mia esistenza sarebbe insignificante._ ” Spock’s flat tone is worse in the lilting language.

That’s a human language, still one that Jim doesn’t know, but he understands that last word. He draws himself up, fixes his clothes while Spock watches him silently. He turns to leave then turns back once more. 

“Why do you do that?! Why do you always answer me like that when you know I can’t understand you?!” Jim’s sinking heart already knows the answer, but he needs to hear the words. He knows this time that he’ll understand as Spock lowers his hands to his sides.

“Because Vulcans do not lie.” 

And Jim believes him. Intellectually, he knows there’s more to the story, but he can’t feel his legs anymore. Whatever Spock has been answering him with is bad enough that he can’t say it in Standard. Jim supposes he should be grateful that he gets answers at all. 

He shakes his head, swallowing. “Neither do I.” He finally meets Spock’s gaze. “I’m done.”

Spock’s expression flickers, and he opens his mouth to say something. Jim hesitates, hoping that Spock will surprise him, will change his mind. But then Spock’s mouth simply closes, and Jim’s resolve carries him out of the dimly-lit classroom and away from Spock. 

That resolves carries Jim through the next couple of months. He still sees Spock in classes, but they had never interacted during them before, and so nothing changes in them now. Jim still sits with his friends during the times their lunches coincide, and so nothing changes there. 

What changes is the free time he has. He’s quick to realize that Spock had dominated most of it, almost down to the exact last minute on breaks between classes, after meals, during study periods. It’s almost...illogical the amount of time they’d spent together, the amount of time Jim’s had to engrave the stretch of Spock’s dick inside of him, the tint of green his skin goes in all the right places and, at the end, the way Jim will forever remember exactly how Spock’s lashes flutter when he comes. 

But Spock respects Jim’s words, not that Jim had any worry about that. Spock has impeccable manners, despite everything. He’s definitely not the type to force himself on someone. So he doesn’t try to convince Jim to start up again. He doesn’t flood him with comm-calls or messages. He never stares at Jim and wills him to follow him like Jim has always done. 

No, he respects Jim’s decision and probably moves on fairly quickly. Probably. Jim doesn’t really know. He throws himself into his studies again, and he tries not to think about how he’d learned how to tell when Spock was making a joke, when the slight uptick of mouth meant a smile. It doesn’t work. He shoves his book across the desk and leans back in his chair with his head tipped back. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he groans loudly. 

Nearly two weeks ago, there’d been a disturbance in the cafeteria. They call it a disturbance, but it was like a pebble falling in the ocean. Spock and T’Pring had stood with each other at their usual table and spoken at a normal level in Vulcan. Jim had heard his name a few times, from T’Pring mostly, and Uhura had watched, wide-eyed in surprise, When they’d asked her about, she’d just glanced at Jim once then shook her head.

The next day, Spock’s father had shown up and escorted Spock from their Autonomy class. He hasn’t seen Spock since, or T’Pring for that matter. Jim wonders how big a part he plays in the grand scheme of it all and wonders what the Ambassador knows, if anything at all.

He looks up at the bulletin board above his desk and the blank space where he’d kept his notes on Spock’s answers pinned. He’d given them to Uhura shortly after ending the trysts between himself and Spock, and Uhura had just eyed them before warily agreeing. 

He suspects that she’s worried it’s all sex-driven. For all Jim knows, it could be. 

He gets up and goes to lie down on his bed. Alone, it’s easier to give into his need to feel Spock again. He misses him, craves him like an addiction, and knows it’s just as dangerous as one. The heat of his fist around his dick is nothing like Spock’s higher body temperatures, but Jim just closes his eyes and does his best to imagine it as Spock’s touch. 

His breathing ratchets up as he squeezes himself tightly, teases and rubs, and strokes until his hips are moving steadily to bump against his fingers. He draws a foot up, kicking aside his pants to get spit-slick fingers to ass, sliding the first two in without preamble. He wants to feel it, needs the spike of pain to ground him even as he loses himself to his phantom lover. 

It’s another empty release, and Jim falls asleep feeling worse for it. 

The shitty feeling pervades his whole self through a few days, but he smiles and pretends and breezes through his classes like nothing is wrong. But it’s a lie, because Spock’s seats are still empty. 

“Jim,” Uhura greets him at lunch some time later. She settles in the chair across from him, resting his notes on the table between them. Jim looks from them then up to her. Her expression is soft, and Jim feels like he’s been kicked in the nuts. 

“W-what?” He croaks, swallows, and tries again. “How bad is it?”

“Jim, it’s…” Uhura bites her lips and leans forward a little. “A couple of them even I don’t know, but I know they’re from Spock.”

“Oh,” Jim breathes. He licks his lips and then just nods, because of course she’d figure it out. She’s incredibly sharp-minded and intelligent, and Jim’s puzzle isn’t exactly the hardest to solve if someone were to examine it closely. “That’s...okay then. So how bad is it?”

Uhura’s soft expression turns a little confused but then swiftly sad, like she’s come to an understanding about Jim’s question in direct correlation to Jim’s self-worth. “I can’t translate everything exactly, Jim. It’s… A lot of the meaning is in the intonations, the emphasis on certain words. The Klingon is rough. I don’t think it’s meant for words like these…”

Jim sighs through his nose after a heavy inhale, closing his eyes briefly. He has the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he just crosses his arms on the table. “So what _can_ you tell me?”

A well-manicured, red nail is tapped against Jim’s notes. There’s a single word at the top, circled in bright blue. Jim’s never seen it before. He frowns, scrunching up his nose as he looks at it. 

“Okay, but…” Jim looks up at Uhura again. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Vulcan and, Jim… I think you should discover it for yourself,” she says, reaching a hand out to cup Jim’s cheek. Her thumb brushes just against the edge of his mouth. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this alone. I wish you’d confided in me sooner. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Jim blinks quickly, willing away the burn of tears. “I’m fine, Ny,” he promises then scoops up the notes as she takes her hand back. His cheek is still warm from her touch. “Looks like I’ve got some homework after all. Thanks for this, seriously.”

“You’re welcome, Jim,” Uhura said quietly, and he feels her eyes on him as he leaves the cafeteria. 

What he finds leaves him furious, enraged in a way he’s never been before. His vision is red with it, blinding him to his normal routine as the universe dares to continue on, until the day he sees him again. 

Tunnel vision. 

Jim understands it now. At the other end of the campus commons, he can see Spock standing among the other students as classes change over. Like a demon possession, Jim’s striding across the commons until he’s right in front of Spock. Distantly, he registers the pale tinge of Spock’s skin, the bags under his eyes, the strange glint in his gaze as he seems to drink in the sight of Jim. 

But Jim also see Spock’s head snap to the side before he registers that he’s punched him. “You _asshole_ ,” he spits, incensed. He thinks his hand might be broken, because the pain in his knuckles is sharp and splintering, but…”Fuck you. How could you do that? How could you keep something like that from me and still… And still... Who gave you the right to fuck with me like that?!”

People are staring. Jim knows this, because it’s human nature. It’s everyone’s nature. Spock rights himself, but now he keeps his gaze lowered as Jim shouts. He looks about as uncomfortable with the public attention as Jim thinks he must be. It infuriates him even more that he grabs Spock’s shirt -never the hands, in any way- and drags him away from all the prying eyes and gossiping hordes of cadets. It doesn’t escape his notice that, again, Spock lets himself be moved. 

Jim is a mess of complicated emotions right now, and at the center of that ball of crap is a single half-fucking Vulcan who has a lot of explaining to do. 

“You look like shit,” Jim says as he practically slams the storage room door shut. 

“I have been unwell,” Spock finally speaks, the words quiet and hushed. One of his hands is clutching the strap of the bag hanging from his shoulder. 

Jim snorts without sympathy. “I’d ask why, but you’d probably just pick some random language to answer me with, and I might actually murder you.”

The lines around Spock’s mouth go tight, and Jim realizes he’s seeing more emotion on Spock’s face than he’s ever seen. Or maybe he’d seen it before they’d parted way, and Jim had just ignored it for his sanity. Jim doesn’t like seeing Spock so subdued; he turns away to pace the small room.

“I will answer you,” Spock says, but he pauses a moment before continuing. “I was unwell because T’Pring and I have severed our mate-bond. It is not a common practice, almost unheard of among my people, so it has been-”

“I don’t care.” Jim stops, facing the ridiculous excuse for a window near the ceiling on the wall. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, you did not,” Spock agrees, letting Jim hear a wistful tone to his words. Jim’s shoulders tense and itch; he rolls them to dispel the discomfort. “T’Pring requested it, and her request was granted due to a breach of our contract.”

“Me,” Jim said, already knowing it for the truth. He turns when he hears Spock set his bag on the ground. 

Spock nods once when Jim looks at him. “Yes. She knew about you, about our...arrangement from the beginning.”

Jim frowns. “From the beginning? We were fucking-” Spock flinches minutely, but Jim ignores it, “-for, like, two years. Why’d she wait so long if she was so pissed?”

“She had no reason to disparage the arrangement until we ended it.” Spock’s hands are shaking a little as he lifts them to his shirt. 

“That-That doesn’t make any sense,” Jim points out, puzzled, then: “What are you doing?”

Spock ignores the question to only address Jim’s confusion. He slips the buttons out of their holes and lets the shirt hang open at his side. “It wasn’t until you ended the arrangement that it had any effect on our mate-bond.” 

Jim refuses to let himself get distracted by Spock’s skin, but he has to drag his eyes back up as Spock comes tentatively towards him. 

“Spock,” Jim warns, holding his ground and tipping his head up slightly.

“Please,” Spock whispers. “Please, I have missed you so, James.”

Jim’s heart stutters out of beat. “You… You don’t get to say that. You lied by omission. You made me believe that I-”

“I will live with that regret for the rest of my life,” Spock says. “In my ignorance, I did not know that you truly believed that I had no care for you. I hurt you, and I fear that it is an irrevocable grievance.”

“Fuck you,” Jim says again, almost strangled. “How could I think anything else?! If I tried to do anything that wasn’t directly linked to your dick, you revolted like I had a disease! You made me think I wasn’t good enough!”

God, just saying the words aloud brings his anger back and the humiliation with it, and he punches Spock again. This time, though, Spock blocks iit and uses Jim’s momentum to take him to the floor. He’s careful, more so than Jim ever was, to make sure Jim isn’t hurt on contact before he slides into Jim’s lap.

“I understand that now,” Spock says brokenly. “I regarded you so highly that I didn’t think you could perceive yourself as anything less than how strongly I felt. I didn’t think the lack of such a simple thing such as kisses weighed so heavily upon you. Yet, I could not have told you regardless. I was afraid.” 

He shrugs out of his shirt, and Jim is staring at him, still seething, but his body is beginning to react to Spock’s proximity. “Afraid of what?” he demands. 

“I was already promised to another, but I could no longer keep myself from your side. You, a human, when my species doesn’t look kindly on Vulcan-Human pairings. My father and mother are proof of that. I was afraid that my father would become aware of my status and demand that I relinquish my feelings for you, give away what you mean to me.”

Spock expertly opens up Jim’s jeans with two fingers as his other hands works open his own pants. Jim swallows thickly, finding his anger diminishing the more Spock explains. It’s honestly the most he’s heard Spock speak outside of a lecture hall, and having it all focused on him feels new. His cock, when Spock finally pulls it free of his underwear, is already mostly hard. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“I was afraid that if I kissed you… If I let us touch lips or fingers, that all my hard-fought control would shatter. I was afraid that if we kissed, you’d figure everything out and leave me, or demand more from me than I thought I was willing to give. I was afraid and cowardly.” 

Spock’s fingers are slow and enticing as they stroke Jim along with his steady confession. Jim’s eyes are half-lidded and his fingers flex against the floor. Spock studied Jim’s face for a long moment, cataloging and memorizing Jim anew. He stands briefly, long enough to step out of his pants and nudges his clothes aside until he’s completely bared and naked to Jim’s gaze. 

The symbolism isn’t lost on Jim as he sinks back into Jim’s lap. He strokes Jim’s cock again, and Jim suddenly realizes what Spock’s about to do. This is definitely new. They’ve never done it this way. He’s suddenly nervous, stomach churning at the thought of Spock intentionally causing himself pain. 

“Spock, we don’t… You don’t have to…”

“Be at ease, James,” Spock replies softly. “I allowed you to cause yourself pain when you were angry and hurting. Every time, I could have stopped you as you saw fit to punish yourself for things out of your control. Finding release in such a manner is monstrous, and yet, I allowed it. I deserved to feel like a monster for what I’ve done to you.”

Spock shifts forward and lowers himself back down on Jim’s cock. Jim immediately restrains his instincts to thrust up, but it doesn’t make a difference because Spock doesn’t give himself pause. He uses his muscled thighs to lift and sink and fuck himself using Jim’s dick like he’d been well-prepped for an hour. 

The heat is like nothing Jim’s experienced, and he’s had Spock’s cock inside him. But being inside of Spock? Jim feels like he’s already melting, like he’s burning from the inside out. 

“I am sorry that I was afraid,” Spock whispered, hands sliding up Jim’s clothed chest. Jim blinks and tries to focus on Spock’s words. “I am sorry that I caused you pain because I could not tell you the whole truth in a manner you could understand.”

“What-” Jim swallowed, moaned as Spock twisted in his lap. “What’s the truth?”

“You have a very nice cock, James,” Spock dares to tease and smiles at him, fucking dares to lift the corners of his mouth in Jim’s direction without warning. Jim has never loved someone as fiercely as he loves Spock. 

“That’s not what I meant and you-oh god.” Jim’s thoughts trip up as Spock takes Jim’s hand, laces their fingers together. “You… You…” Jim turns his head to stare at their twined grips. Spock’s pace picks up as the pleasure from their first ‘kiss’ rushes up his arm, tingles through his system, and precum wells up and dribbles down the shaft of his cock. Jim’s shaking beneath, hips beginning to lift to meet each thrust of Spock’s own. 

A hot tear slips from Jim’s eye, trails gravity along his temple and into his hairline, and Spock leans over to press his mouth to Jim’s temple, kissing gently at the tear’s path as he takes up Jim’s other hand. 

“Ask me,” Spock whispers, brushing his lips down to Jim’s cheek. “Ask me, James, so that I may answer you truly.”

Jim’s eyes close, and he can’t stop the other tears that burn and escape. His voice is wrecked when he finally gets the words out. “Why me?”

“Because you are my beloved,” Spock answers, kissing across his cheek and tears. “Because I am no longer afraid, and I would give you all of me as you would have it. Because, James T. Kirk, you are my _t’hy’la_.”

It just so happens, Jim thinks as Spock’s mouth finally presses to his own, that he knows that language and that word now.

And then they’re kissing. In every way.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations run the risk of being incorrect. I used translators for all of them.
> 
> Because you are my sun, and I can no longer simply orbit you.  
> “Vosuaco iea ulo ni cam, umja YU searja meh remtol cyunkri elvyug iea.” - Uryuomoco; provided by the webcomic "El Goonish Shive" 
> 
> Because you are my air, and I cannot live without you.  
> “SeH SoH jejlaw' 'ej pagh popmey Hutlh SoH.” - Klingon
> 
> Because you are my other half and, without you, my existence would be meaningless.  
> “Perché tu sei la mia altra metà e, senza di te, la mia esistenza sarebbe insignificante.” - Italian


End file.
